Osip Emilyevich Mandelshtam

Osip Emilyevich Mandelshtam, Mandelshtam also spelled Mandelstam, (born January 3 [January 15, New Style], 1891, Warsaw, Poland, Russian Empire [now in Poland]—died December 27, 1938, Vtoraya Rechka transit camp, near Vladivostok, Russia, U.S.S.R. [now in Russia]), major Russian poet, prose writer, and literary essayist. Most of his works went unpublished in the Soviet Union during the Joseph Stalin era (1929–53) and were almost unknown to generations of Russian readers until the mid-1960s.

Mandelshtam grew up in St. Petersburg in an upper-middle-class Jewish household. His father was a leather merchant who had abandoned rabbinical training for a secular education in Germany, and his mother was a cultivated member of the Russian intelligentsia. After he graduated from the private elite Tenishev School in 1907 and made an unsuccessful attempt to join a social-revolutionary terrorist organization, Mandelshtam traveled to France to study at the Sorbonne and later to Germany to enroll at Heidelberg University. After returning to Russia in 1911, he converted to Christianity (baptized by the Finnish Methodists) and, thus exempted from the Jewish quota, went on to study at the University of St. Petersburg. He left it in 1915 before receiving a degree.

His first poems appeared in the St. Petersburg journal Apollon (“Apollo”) in 1910. In response to the early Futuristmanifestoes, Mandelshtam, together with Nikolay Gumilyov, Anna Akhmatova, and Sergey Gorodetsky, founded the Acmeist school of poetry, an attempt at codifying the poetic practice of the new generation of St. Petersburg poets. They rejected the vague mysticism of Russian Symbolism and demanded clarity and concreteness of representation and precision of form and meaning—combined with a broad-ranging erudition (encompassing classical antiquity and European history, especially that relating to culture and including art and religion). Mandelshtam summed up his poetic credo in his manifestoUtro Akmeizma (written 1913, published 1919; “The Morning of Acmeism”).

In 1913 his father underwrote the publication of his first slim volume of verse, Kamen (Stone), to be followed by larger volumes with the same name in 1916 and 1923. The title was emblematic of the Acmeists’—and especially Mandelshtam’s—identification with the cultural essence of St. Petersburg, the classical tradition of western European civilization, and the architectural expression of its spiritual and political heritage. The first two editions of Kamen (1913 and 1916) established Mandelshtam as a full-fledged member of the glorious cohort of Russian poets. His subsequent collections—Vtoraya kniga (1925; “Book Two”), essentially a retitled, revised edition of Tristia (1922), and Stikhotvoreniya (1928; “Poems”)—earned him the reputation of a leading poet of his generation.

Disinclined to serve as a mouthpiece for political propaganda (unlike Vladimir Mayakovsky), Mandelshtam considered “a dialogue with his time” a moralimperative for a poet. He responded to World War I and the revolution with a series of historical-philosophical meditative poems that are among the best and most profound in the corpus of Russian civic poetry. By temperament and conviction a supporter of the Socialist Revolutionary Party, he welcomed the collapse of the old regime in 1917 and was opposed to the Bolshevik seizure of power. However, his experiences during the Russian Civil War (1918–20) left little doubt that he had no place in the White movement. As a Russian poet, he felt he had to share the fate of his country and could not opt for emigration. Like many Russian intellectuals at the time (sympathizers of the Change of Landmarks movement or “fellow travelers”), he made peace with the Soviets without identifying himself wholly with Bolshevik methods or goals. During the civil war Mandelshtam lived alternately in Petrograd, Kiev, the Crimea, and Georgia under a variety of regimes. In 1922, after the publication of his second volume of poetry, Tristia, he settled in Moscow and married Nadezhda Yakovlevna Khazina, whom he had met in Kiev in 1919.

Mandelshtam’s poetry, erudite and resonating with historical analogies and classical myths, set him on the margins of the Soviet literary establishment but did not diminish his standing as a premier poet of his time among both the literary elite and the most astute readers of poetry in the Bolshevik government (Mandelshtam was patronized by Nikolay Bukharin). After Tristia Mandelshtam’s poetic output gradually diminished, and, although some of his most significant poems (“Slate Ode” and “1 January 1924”) were composed in 1923–24, it came to a complete halt in 1925.

As he was turning away from poetry, Mandelshtam produced some of the 20th century’s best memoir prose (Shum vremeni [The Noise of Time] and Feodosiya [“Theodosia”], 1923) and a short experimental novel (Yegipetskaya marka [“The Egyptian Stamp”], 1928). During the 1920s he also published a series of brilliant critical essays (“The End of the Novel,” “The 19th Century,” and “The Badger’s Hole: Alexander Blok,” among others). Included in the collection O poezii (1928; “On Poetry”), those essays, along with his Razgovor o Dante (1932; Conversation About Dante), were to have a lasting impact on Russian literary scholarship (notably on Mikhail Bakhtin and the Formalists). These were his last books published in the Soviet Union during his lifetime.

Like many of his fellow poets and writers, Mandelshtam earned his living in the 1920s by literary translation. In 1929, in the tense politicized atmosphere of the Stalin revolution, Mandelshtam became enmeshed in a copyright scandal that further estranged him from the literary establishment. In response, Mandelshtam produced Chetvertaya proza (1930?; Fourth Prose), a stream-of-consciousness monologue mocking the servility of Soviet writers, the brutality of the cultural bureaucracy, and the absurdity of “socialist construction.” That book was not published in Russia until 1989.

In 1930, thanks to Bukharin’s still powerful patronage, Mandelshtam was commissioned to travel to Armenia to observe and record the progress of its Five-Year Plan. The result was Mandelshtam’s return to poetry (the Armenia cycle and the subsequent The Moscow Notebooks) and Journey to Armenia, a powerful example of Modernist travel prose. Some of the poetry of the period, along with the Journey, was published in periodical press. Cleansed of the earlier scandal, Mandelshtam settled back in Moscow as a prominent member of the writers’ community, a development facilitated by a brief thaw in cultural policy in 1932–34.

However, Mandelshtam’s independence, his aversion to moral compromise, his sense of civic responsibility, and the horror he felt at the repression of the peasantry set him on a collision course with the Stalinist party-state. In November 1933 Mandelshtam produced a searing epigram on Stalin which he subsequently read to many of his friends (“We live unable to sense the country under our feet”). Aware of a mounting opposition to Stalin within the party, which reached its crescendo in 1934 at the 17th Party Congress (held January 26 to February 10), Mandelshtam hoped that his poem would become urban folklore and broaden the base of the anti-Stalin opposition. In the poem, Mandelshtam presents Stalin as “a slayer of peasants,” with wormlike fingers and a cockroach moustache, who delights in wholesale torture and executions. Denounced by someone in his circle, Mandelshtam was arrested for the epigram in May 1934 and sent into exile, with Stalin’s verdict “isolate but protect.” The lenient verdict was dictated by Stalin’s desire to win the intelligentsia to his side and to improve his image abroad, a policy in line with his staging of the First Congress of Soviet Writers (August 1934).

The stress of the arrest, imprisonment, and interrogations, which forced Mandelshtam to divulge the names of the friends who had heard him recite the poem, led to a protracted bout of mental illness. While in a hospital in the provincial town of Cherdyn (in the Urals), Mandelshtam attempted suicide by jumping out of the window, but he survived and was reassigned to the more hospitable city of Voronezh. There he managed to regain some of his mental balance. As an exile who was afforded the highest “protection,” he was allowed to work in the local theatre and radio station, but the imposed isolation from his milieu was increasingly difficult to bear. Mandelshtam became obsessed with the idea of redeeming his offense against Stalin and transforming himself into a new Soviet man. This Voronezh period (1934–37) was, perhaps, the most productive in Mandelshtam’s career as a poet, yielding three remarkable cycles, the Voronezhskiye tetradi (The Voronezh Notebooks), along with his longest poem, “Ode to Stalin.” In a sense the culmination of The Voronezh Notebooks, “Ode to Stalin” is at once a brilliant Pindaricpanegyric to his tormentor and a Christ-like plea to the “father of all people” to be spared the cross. Composed by a great poet, it stands as a unique monument to the mental horror of Stalinism and the tragedy of the intelligentsia’s capitulation before the violence and ideological diktat of the Stalinist regime.

In May 1937, his sentence served, Mandelshtam left Voronezh, but, as a former exile, he was not allowed a residence permit within a 62-mile (100-km) radius of Moscow. Destitute, homeless, and suffering from asthma and heart disease, Mandelshtam persisted in trying to rehabilitate himself, making rounds of the writers’ apartments and Writers’ Union of the U.S.S.R. offices, reciting his “Ode,” and pleading for work and a return to a normal life. The poet’s friends in Moscow and Leningrad took up a collection to save the Mandelshtams from starvation. In March 1938 the general secretary of the Writers’ Union, Vladimir Stavsky, denounced Mandelshtam to the head of the secret police, Nikolay Yezhov, as someone stirring up trouble in the writers’ community. The denunciation included an expert review of Mandelshtam’s oeuvre by writer Pyotr Pavlenko, who dismissed Mandelshtam as a mere versifier, with grudging praise for only a few lines of the “Ode.” A month later, on May 3, 1938, Mandelshtam was arrested. Sentenced to five years in a labour camp for anti-Soviet activity, he died in a transit camp near Vladivostok on December 27, 1938. The “Ode” remained unpublished until 1976.

Perhaps more than any other poet of his generation, with the exception of Velimir Khlebnikov, Mandelshtam was distinguished by a complete commitment to his vocation as a poet-prophet and poet-martyr. Without permanent residence or steady employment but for a brief interlude in the early 1930s, he lived the life of an archetypal poet, dispersing manuscripts among his friends and relying on their memories for “archiving” his unpublished poetry. It was primarily through the efforts of his widow, who died in 1980, that little of Mandelshtam’s poetry was lost; she kept his works alive during the repression by memorizing them and by collecting copies.

After Stalin’s death the publication in Russian of Mandelshtam’s works was resumed, with the first volume of Mandelshtam’s poetry being issued in 1973. But it was the early American two-volume annotated edition of Mandelshtam by Gleb Struve and Boris Filippov (1964), along with the books of memoirs by Nadezhda Mandelshtam, that brought the poet’s oeuvre to the attention of new generations of readers, scholars, and fellow poets. In Russia at the turn of the 21st century, Mandelshtam remained one of the most-quoted poets of his day.